


Someone to Watch Over Me

by sadieb798



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angel Eggsy, Angels have a lot of rules, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Compliant Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Eggsy is Harry's Guardian Angel, Eggsy is a Little Shit, Guardian Angel Eggsy, Guardian Angels, Harry Hart is a Little Shit, Harry doesn't make Eggsy's job easy, I'm sorry but Harry still dies, M/M, Pining, Romance, Supernatural Elements, happyish, heaven is a bureaucracy, loosely at any rate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 02:39:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5850910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadieb798/pseuds/sadieb798
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: Eggsy is Harry Hart's guardian angel. When he first gets the assignment, it seems fairly simple; keep the mild-mannered tailor alive. And then it turns out the man's a reckless super-spy.</p><p>Or</p><p>Five times Eggsy saved Harry's life and the one time he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone to Watch Over Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Port_wind_sea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Port_wind_sea/gifts).



> For Port_wind_sea, who had a lot of good prompts but this was the one that stuck to me like gum in my hair.  
> Lots o' love to Jakathine for being a shoulder I could cry on, beta'ing this beast, providing input, and for being an angel and a devil rolled into one sinnamon roll. Not Brit Picked.
> 
> PS: There are some references to my other favorite fandoms. See if you can spot them ;)
> 
> Title comes from George and Ira Gershwin's song "Someone to Watch Over Me". This one is my favorite version of the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mn3LmmGZlzg&index=5&list=PLMlfGgR7j1iSU9pkOxrEdFEeby1IzhFry, but Ella's version is amazing too: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gDhF-PsDuCw.

**Someone to Watch Over Me**

(Alternatively: 'Five times Eggsy Saved Harry's life and the One Time He Didn't'.)

 

 **December 1997: London, England.**  

Lee Unwin, former guardian angel to Harry Hart, had died.

Eggsy hadn’t known Lee, but from all the talk circling around heaven, Lee had been unfortunate enough to fall in love and marry a mortal. And because of it, from what Eggsy understood, at the time of his death, Lee had been more human than angel. Eggsy couldn’t understand that. It was a law of being a Guardian that every angel knew: an angel who spent enough time with a mortal starts to gain humanistic qualities, and as more time goes on, the more time they spend with a mortal, the more an angel begins to _become_ mortal. Meaning if an angel takes a hit for their charge, instead of healing up immediately as usual, the angel gets injured or, God forbid, dies.

 _Every_ Guardian knew this, and Eggsy couldn’t understand why Lee, who had been on his way towards something great, willingly _chose_ not to put more distance between himself and the mortal he spent his time with who wasn’t his charge. It was just stupid is what it was.

At the time of Lee’s failure, Eggsy had been stationed in London and was the Guardian of a local crime gang leader, Dean Baker. Unfortunately for Guardian angels, they couldn’t pick and choose who their charges were. They could be good or bad, or even evil. The angel who’d been assigned to Hitler had never been the same after his charge’s suicide. That was probably because the poor bugger knew he couldn’t do anything to stop the fucking Nazis and could only watch on as they slaughtered thousands of people. Luckily Dean wasn’t a dictator, but a leader of a small gang and had been killed in a gang war a few weeks back, and Eggsy was only too happy to get a reassignment.

It’d been a long time since he’d had a reassignment, the last few people he’d had to guard had been stupidly young at the time of their deaths, and Dean was an exception. But then it’s not as though Eggsy could do a thing about that, _despite_ being a guardian angel. It was another rule: a Guardian had no control over their charge’s assigned death--all they could do was make sure their charge didn’t die before their scheduled and intended demise, or else they would end up in Purgatory. Forever.

So while Eggsy was enjoying a nice glass of gin one night, his phone pinged with his new assignment. Eggsy looked through the file, reading everything the Upstairs had on his new charge. Under the job description of Henry Colin Hart, nickname ‘Harry’, Eggsy simply read ‘tailor’ and felt immense relief. Finally! A charge that didn’t have a high-risk lifestyle! Eggsy was so sick of those; he’d been a Guardian for over a millennia and most all of his charges had been some form of gangster, cop, firefighter, and even a musician once-- _all_ of them at risk of a short lifespan. This assignment though seemed easy enough: keep the, no doubt, mild-mannered tailor alive until the inevitable heart attack or cancer that would cause his expiration in a few decade’s time and that was it. Eggsy would have no problems at all.

* * *

The first time Eggsy met Hart, the bastard was stopping an attempted bombing on Parliament.

“The fuck kind of tailor _are_ you?!” Eggsy shouted at his charge, watching as Hart beat the men donned in black with some impressive hand-to-hand combat skills in the tunnels underneath Parliament. Eggsy sighed, knowing it was useless: Hart couldn’t hear or see him unless Eggsy willed him to. Still, it helped Eggsy relieve some tension by shouting obscenities at his charge and he’d always been a fan of that. At the moment Eggsy simply stood back, looking for any holes in his charge’s defense as Hart danced around the terrorists with ease.

“On your left,” Eggsy said, allowing his charge to hear his voice as a whisper directly behind him. Hart turned and, with a nicely timed elbow strike, managed to break the nose of a terrorist who was about to stab him, letting a satisfying crack bounce off the moist brick wall of the tunnel.

Once all the terrorists had been laid out flat on their backs, Hart simply adjusted his suit jacket and continued on down the tunnels--barely exerted and not even a strand of dark hair out of place.

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re _doing?!”_ Eggsy exclaimed, gobsmacked as he stood watching his charge’s retreating backside. “The exit’s back there!” He pointed at the opposite direction. He stared as Hart simply continued walking down the dark tunnels, silent except for the occasional drip-drip of water that leaked from the tunnel’s ceiling.

Eggsy groaned loudly but followed his charge. When it was apparent that Hart was not in immediate danger, Eggsy pulled out his phone and brought up Hart’s file, looking it over as they walked. Just as before, in the job description read ‘tailor*’--but Eggsy hadn’t noticed the small asterisk beside the ‘r’ before. He scanned the page until he came to the matching asterisk towards the bottom of the next page. According to the annotation, ‘tailor’ was code for ‘spy’ in Hart’s line of work. The man’s real job was actually working as an agent for an independent international intelligence agency known as Kingsman. Hart even had a codename: ‘Galahad’.

Eggsy groaned again as he slipped his phone back into his jacket’s pocket.

“The fuck man,” Eggsy groused. “Always read the fine print, mate,” he advised his charge as they continued to walk through the darkness. “Because you never know just wha’ you’re gonna be stuck wif until it’s too late.”

Thankfully the date for Hart's Deadline remained unchanged: February 2015. _That_ was a relief at any rate.

Eggsy was just beginning to get bored when they finally came upon an abandoned train car on the electric tracks in the middle of the tunnel. Hart approached the car cautiously, his eyes scanning the vicinity for any sort of danger. When they reached the car, Hart slid the doors open. The inside of the car was dark and quiet and surprisingly clean, despite it being a car used for the Underground.

Hart scanned the inside, running the light from his torch over every seat and along the floor. Eggsy stood over his shoulder, taking it all in. Hart approached one of the seats and lifted the cushion of the seat up with ease, revealing different colored wires running through the bench of seats. “The fuck?” Eggsy asked as Hart followed the trail of wires that ran up the sides of the car until it led to a loose part in the floor. Hart crouched down and lifted the loose floor tile, and underneath was a giant cylinder shaped canister with a digital clock face that stared up at them. It read five minutes.

“Oh fuck me,” Eggsy groaned, scrubbing his face with his hands. “A bloody bomb! That’s a fucking _bomb!”_ He turned back towards Hart. “Do you have _any_ idea how screwed we'll be if this thing blows up? Hell, there will be _years_ of backed-up paperwork to work through if this thing detonates and kills half of London!” As Eggsy lamented over his situation, Hart reached into his suit jacket and pulled out what looked like a pen from the inner pocket.

“What the fuck are you thinking?!” Eggsy cried, eyes bulging out of his head as he watched his charge. “You can’t fucking defuse a _bomb--”_

Suddenly the doors to the car slammed shut and the lights lit up brightly inside the car, startling Eggsy. Hart merely looked like this was a minor inconvenience, like stepping in dog shit, and barely glanced away from his task. Eggsy looked back down at the digital clock on the bomb: it had started counting down.

“Well that’s certainly a surprise,” Hart said, sounding not at all surprised to Eggsy. Hart took out another pen-shaped object in his jacket and began to fiddle with the bomb. Then instead of reading four minutes, the clock flashed down to one minute.

“Well shit,” Hart muttered at the same time as Eggsy said irritably “Oh fuck no”.

Eggsy took out his phone and waved it over the bomb so it could get a proper scan of the device. “No fuckin’ _way_ are you dying eighteen years before you’re meant to, bruv. Not on my watch.” When he was sure the phone was done scanning, Eggsy stared down at the screen, looking at the blueprints of the bomb before he noticed something strange about the device’s design. Quickly he lifted his hand and pressed the tip of his forefinger against the middle of Hart’s forehead.

Hart blinked as though just remembering something. Then he put down his tools and began to run his hands along the sides of the bomb before finding the switch Eggsy had noticed in the blueprints and flipped it. The bomb’s countdown stopped at ten seconds. Eggsy breathed a huge sigh of relief.

It wasn’t until later that Eggsy learned that Hart’s fellow Kingsman agents had caught the ringleaders of the terrorist organization, among them a corrupted politician, and had rounded them, along with the bomb train car, all up to be dealt with.

“You fucking lucky bastard,” Eggsy grumbled later that night as Hart drank scotch in his posh house, looking cool as a cucumber.

* * *

The second time, Hart was running for his life.

“Don’t do anything by halves do you, Hart?” Eggsy asked as he glided alongside Hart, matching his charge’s speed as he raced through the streets of Peru, gunshots ringing out behind them.

Eggsy effortlessly lifted his wings higher over Hart, shielding his charge from the spray of bullets.

Hart turned and shot back at his pursuers, his forehead scrunched in concentration as he took aim. Eggsy was impressed when one of the bullets ricocheted off one of the alley walls and hit one of the gunmen square in the head. Eggsy snorted. “Knowing you, you probably _meant_ to do that,” he muttered as he banked left to better follow his charge. Eggsy frowned suddenly. There was a chance of danger up ahead of them: one of the gunmen was slightly smarter than his compatriots and had taken another route so that he would be right in front of Hart by the time he reached the end of the alley--right where Hart was meant to meet up with his fellow Kingsman agent.

“Fucking shit,” Eggsy exclaimed as they were getting closer to the henchman. As they raced down the alley, Eggsy snatched a lid from a passing trashcan, and, clutching it tightly, curled it across his torso; holding the lid like a Frisbee. Once they reached the end of the alley, the henchman stepped out in front of Hart’s path, rifle raised. Eggsy swung his arm in a wide arc, releasing the lid. The trashcan lid flew through the air, slicing like a knife before hitting the henchmen in his esophagus, the impact causing him to expel a choked off noise before flying backwards and landing on his back. Without missing a beat, Hart leapt over the downed henchman like his namesake and continued on to the rendezvous point as though nothing had happened.

“Serves you right, prick,” Eggsy said as he flew over the crumpled body of the henchman and followed at the heels of his charge.

Once they were safely ensconced in one of the many fancy jets Kingsman owned, flying over the landscape of Peru--because fuck you, flying took a lot out of an angel and how often could he say he’d flown in a bloody _jet?--_ that Hart said to his fellow agent, “Excellent job with that trashcan lid, by the way, James. Though I don’t even know _how_ you managed to get behind me so quickly.”

The man, James, whose codename Eggsy knew was ‘Lancelot’, raised an eyebrow at Hart.

“Have you taken too many hits to the head, Harry?” James asked, confused.

Eggsy laughed. “Wouldn’t surprise me if he had at one point, mate,” he said as he settled back into his seat.

Hart frowned at his companion. “You didn’t help me escape that alley?” Hart asked.

His friend shook his head. “No, Harry. I was already in the car by the time you came out of there. Had been for at least ten minutes.”

Hart sat back in his seat, looking perplexed. Eggsy leaned forward, towards his charge with a smirk on his lips and whispered in Hart’s ear, “You’re welcome.”

Hart glanced in Eggsy’s direction, not startled but not at ease either. “Merlin did you say something?” he asked in a carefully measured tone. Eggsy was aware of the faceless tech wizard that his charge communicated with via his tortoiseshell glasses. From the controlled expression of confusion on Hart’s face, Merlin had answered in the negative.

The rest of flight was spent in silence, and once it was clear that his charge was in no danger, Eggsy settled in for a nap.

* * *

The third time, Eggsy accidentally revealed himself.

Over the past five years of being a Guardian to Harry Hart, Eggsy had been witness to some of the most fucking ridiculous adventures that his charge had ever been assigned to.

Eggsy had remained at his side when Hart travelled the world and when he stayed at home. He’d seen Hart break up smuggling rings, stop human traffickers, terrorize terrorists, prevent assassinations, and even foil an egomaniac's attempt at world domination a time or two--but _nothing_ compared to when Hart had to deal with Natalie and Diana Morstan.

Hart had been investigating the assassination of a political dignitary, and had suspected that the woman’s husband was somehow involved in her death. But the husband had been clever enough to throw off Scotland Yard by hiring the married mercenaries to commit the murder. Hart was going to bring them in for questioning, but little did he know that he had made his suspect nervous by his probing, and as a result the husband hired the mercs again, but this time to dispose of the Kingsman agent. By any means necessary.

Eggsy had been incredibly busy in the following two years trying to prevent Hart’s death by the ruthless women. What Eggsy hadn’t taken into account, though, was the very strong possibility of him revealing himself to Hart. A Guardian is by nature invisible to mortals, and only when it’s in extreme cases, or unless they choose to do so, a Guardian can be visible to not only their charge, but to everyone around them.

So when Hart was walking down a street on Westminster, and Eggsy was soaring up above over the rooftops, scanning for any danger, he noticed a black sedan with the redheaded mercenary speeding towards his charge. Eggsy didn’t even stop to think.

He sailed down across the street as fast as he could and made himself visible before running across the cobbled street at top speed, and tackled his charge, knocking them both onto the dirty ground. Of course the mercenary drove off, foiled for now, but it would only be a matter of time before one or both of them made another move to kill Hart.

“What in the--?” Hart began as he sat up on his elbows.

“So sorry about that, bruv,” Eggsy said, pulling Hart up and making a show of straightening Hart’s jacket and brushing off the dirt and grime from his sleeves. “Thought you were a mate of mine.”

Hart frowned at him in disbelief, a loose lock of his hair fell elegantly down over his chocolate brown eyes. Eggsy had never noticed how brown they were before.

“Sorry to do this mate, but it’s for your own good,” Eggsy apologized before grabbing Hart’s labels and pulling him down for a kiss. Hart stiffened in his grasp before the memory wipe took effect and he immediately relaxed in Eggsy’s arms. Eggsy opened his eyes and pulled his lips away from Hart, holding him up to help him balance. To passersby, they must have looked like two mates that were more than sloshed.

Eggsy stepped up closer to the kerb and hailed the Kingsman taxi he knew was there. He ushered Hart into the cab--taking care to be invisible again so that the cabbie wouldn’t notice him--and his charge went along willingly, slumping forward slightly in his delirious state. Eggsy stood at the kerb and watched the cab pull away, touching his fingers to his lips thoughtfully. He had never liked using the memory wipe; it was always an awful experience when he had to apply it on his other charges. Either they would attempt to get more out of it, or try and knock him over with a punch.

But with Hart it was...different. Almost pleasant.

Unfortunately for both Eggsy and Hart, that wasn’t the last they’d see of the couple. The other time Eggsy revealed himself to Hart, it had been because he ran out of energy.

That was the other way a Guardian could become visible to their charge. When they used up too much of their powers, it would drain them of their abilities and leave them not only visible, but also powerless. Of course Guardians were only powerless until they can theoretically recharge--requiring sleep and food--before they could become invisible again. Sometimes sleep is all that’s needed, but it’s not always enough.

In Eggsy’s case, he needed both. He was exhausted, he could feel it in his bones and could see himself flicker in and out of existence in the shop windows they passed on the streets of Prague, causing more than a few people to do a double-take.

Hart had been situated in one of the many safe-houses in Prague, and hadn’t been using the bed, opting instead to communicate with Merlin via telephone instead of going to bed like a proper human being ought to in the wee hours of the morning. Eggsy doesn't know how it happened, but one moment he was sitting on the bed, and the next thing he knew, sunlight was streaming through the window, his face was smushed into the pillow, and a gun was pointed at his face.

“Normally I shoot strange young men I find in my room who have entered without my consent,” Hart said evenly, as his eyes stared coolly down at Eggsy. “But I _am_ curious as to _how_ exactly you managed to pull that off without my knowing.”

When Eggsy continued to stare speechless at the glock aimed at his face, Hart took the safety off the gun, the sound echoed pointedly in the tense silence. “So start talking,” he said severely.

Eggsy slowly lifted both hands until they were parallel with his eyes, and began to lift himself off the mattress until he was sitting upright. He stared at Hart, who stared back at him. Eggsy began weighing his options. He knew that he was still weak, and if he was shot, he wouldn’t be able to heal as easily or as quickly as he normally could without at least a little more sleep and some food. But he wasn’t sure what he could do or say that would prevent Hart from shooting him long enough for him to pull either feat off.

Then his stomach growled. Eggsy glanced down at his stomach before looking back up at his charge. Hart arched an eyebrow at him. “Erm,” Eggsy said sheepishly. “Would it be too much to ask for sumfing to eat before being questioned?”

*******

Eggsy lied to Hart.

He told his charge that he was casing the place to rob, but when he found nothing of value decided he could use the sleep instead, not knowing that Hart was just in the next room.

“Your accent,” Hart began, sitting straight-backed in a chair across from Eggsy, looking perfectly at ease with his gun in hand and casually draped over his knee. Eggsy waited but continued to scarf down the tuna sandwich Hart had allowed him to make. “You’re from London, aren’t you?”

Eggsy nodded. “Born and bred,” he said in-between chews. Maybe not _born_ , but he _was_ technically raised there.

“Then what are you doing here in Prague?” Hart asked, genuinely curious.

Eggsy swallowed and shrugged. “Same as you, I’m sure. Work.”

Hart raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Does your work often take you out of the country?”

“I just go where the boss tells me to,” Eggsy replied with a daring smirk.

“Curious,” Hart said as he stared at Eggsy.

Suddenly Eggsy could feel a flash of imminent danger approaching. That was the first clue that his powers were coming back. Without saying a word, he leapt across the room, knocking Hart and the chair his charge had been sitting in onto the floor, and shielded Hart with his body as bullets exploded from the wall behind them.

At Hart’s touch against his ribs, Eggsy immediately rolled off of him and they both crawled underneath the bed.

“I don't suppose you're going to tell me how you knew that that would happen?” Hart shouted over the continuing explosion.

Eggsy shook his head. “Just got good instincts, bruv," he shouted back.

Hart gave him a disbelieving look, but didn't comment.

When the bullets finally stopped and they managed to get out from underneath the bed, Hart was determined to complete the mission, and Eggsy was still far from fully healed. It was obvious that Hart was planning on using an amnesia dart on Eggsy--he _had_ been Hart’s Guardian for seven years now, he knew how Hart did things--it wasn’t until Eggsy swore on his life that he wouldn’t tell anyone what he saw today that Hart let him go.

There was still the problem of Eggsy having to stick to Hart like gum in order to protect him. So he followed discreetly behind Hart, parkouring over buildings and houses, weaving between pedestrians and tourists, trailing after Hart through side-streets and back alleys. Eggsy thought he lost Hart for a moment before the man himself stepped out of an alley directly in front of Eggsy. He would have collided into his charge’s chest if he hadn’t stopped himself in time, instead stopping a few inches before plummeting into Hart.

“Hello again,” Hart said dryly as he stared down at Eggsy over the bridge of his tortoiseshell glasses.

Eggsy gulped, but didn’t let his panic show on his face. “ ’Lo,” he said politely, as though he hadn’t spent the past hour and a half following his charge.

Hart raised an eyebrow at him. “And why, may I ask, are you following me?”

Eggsy gave him an innocent look. “Wha me?” he asked. “Nah, jus seeing the sights while I still, ya know, _can.”_

“Might I suggest then that you turn around and purchase yourself a map?” Hart said pointedly. “You’re not in an entirely pleasant part of town, and a young man like yourself should see the proper sights.”

Eggsy scoffed. “Bruv, you can tell from my accent that I don’t come from no proper parts of town.”

The corners of Hart’s lips quirked in amusement, sending a small flutter of glee through Eggsy. Hart tilted his head to the side as he considered Eggsy. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Eggsy.”

“Well Eggsy, despite my disapproving your putting yourself in danger, I have to say I’m impressed by your tenacity,” Hart started, making Eggsy roll his eyes. “It takes an especially determined person to keep a target well within his sights.” Then he reached into his suit’s pocket and pulled out a card before holding it out to Eggsy. “Should you ever want a change in careers,” he explained at Eggsy’s puzzled look.

Eggsy took the card from his charge’s fingers and stared down at it. It was printed on expensive paper that was smooth under Eggsy’s calloused thumb, with the tilted ‘K’ logo of Hart’s association in the center and on the back was a string of numbers that looked like a date.

He looked back up to see the man staring at him, curiosity evident in his warm brown eyes. “Until we meet again, Eggsy.” He gave a slight nod, the fucker, turned and strolled down the street away from Eggsy; twirling his umbrella as he went. Eggsy couldn’t help but watch him go, dumbstruck.

“Jesus Christ,” Eggsy breathed.

That’s how Eggsy knew he was in trouble.

*******

Once Hart had successfully completed his mission and both he and Eggsy were safely back in England, Eggsy began to run into him as often as he could get away with.

Sometimes it was hard to explain to Hart just what he was doing in the same parts of town as his charge when he had his own business to take care of--Eggsy could only use the ‘I was in the neighborhood’ excuse so often--so he began to take cautious measures. He would show up outside the tailor shop just as Hart would be leaving for the day. Eggsy would put in an appearance at Hart’s favorite pub, and sometimes at the cafe Hart frequented on an off day. He and Harry would always fall into conversation when they met up. They mostly talked about football matches, trading gentle jibes about the other’s favorite team, and Harry would tell him stories about his life, and it was far and away much better to hear about Harry’s life from the man’s own lips instead of just reading a condensed version of it in a file. He’d even managed to save Harry’s arse a few times when a brawl would inevitably break out in the pubs. Two birds, one stone.

It was astonishing one night while they were having a pint of Guinness at the bar that Hart hit on him. Eggsy flushed a bright red and, in response, buried his face in his glass.

Every encounter they had after that, Hart was obvious about his intentions towards Eggsy, and Eggsy for the life of him, didn’t know what to do with that. Of course it was another condition of being a Guardian that once an angel spent enough time with a mortal, they would gain human qualities, and with that came requirements for more food and more sleep--and sex. Angels didn’t feel lust until they spent enough time with mortals, then they would feel it.

God help him, Eggsy wanted Harry. He wanted Harry in all the ways that he’d read of in books and saw in those stupid rom coms he adored. He wanted him in both the biblical and innocent sense of the word. Eggsy continually cursed himself over it; at last he understood why Lee Unwin had done what he did. These feelings that Eggsy had were unbearable and shitty. He couldn’t get over how adorable Hart looked in the dangerous cut of his suit, how beautiful he was when something Eggsy said made him laugh and sent something fluttering free inside of Eggsy, and how annoyingly imperfectly perfect everything about his charge was from the strands of hair on his head, all the way down to his toenails.

It got harder once five years since Prague had passed and it was obvious that Eggsy wasn’t aging quite like Harry was. Of course being around Harry had made Eggsy a little bit mortal each year, and while he _did_ show signs of aging, it wasn’t enough to match the years that went by. So Eggsy did the one thing he thought he could do: he pulled away.

After an incredibly lovely evening spent together, they were leaving the restaurant they’d been dining in when Eggsy gripped the sleeve of Harry’s coat, stopping the man in his tracks. Harry turned his head to look down at him in puzzlement, and when Eggsy pulled him back to his side, his puzzlement morphed into incredulousness. Eggsy stared into Harry’s hopeful eyes and stood on his tiptoes before kissing Harry goodbye. And for a moment, everything was perfect. Eggsy poured everything he had into their last kiss; every emotion that Harry had stirred within him, all his desires and wishes for the future, and all the apologies he couldn't make for the unfairness of it all. Eggsy kissed him, and Harry forgot.

Eggsy thought it would be easy to do this memory wipe on Harry; like ripping off a bandaid--but he was wrong. It fucking _hurt._ For the next five years, Eggsy ached deep down in his bones and yearned for that affection he had once had with Harry.

But he kept his invisibility up, not allowing himself to fall into temptation again. It was absolutely miserable.

* * *

The fourth time, it was 2014.

Eggsy had had to get the cops away from Harry somehow, so he’d stolen an obnoxiously yellow car and driven it backwards through the streets of London before he crashed into a lamppost to avoid a fox. Then he proceeded to drive right into the police car that had been pursuing him.

The next thing he knows, he’s at the police station. He asks for a phone call, and out of desperation, he calls the number on the back of the business card that Harry had given him all those years ago.

And then he’s outside the station and there’s Harry, leaning ever so cool and casual against the side of the building, looking untouchable as always. Eggsy’s heart leaps at the sight of Harry’s chocolate brown eyes staring at him; not through him, or past him, but _at_ him.

Harry is curious how he got the business card, and he makes a point of telling Eggsy so and wants answers. But instead of applying his usual interrogation tactics on him, Harry takes Eggsy out for a pint at The Black Prince.

Immediately into their conversation over their drinks, something feels wrong to Eggsy. He looks up and that’s when he notices the demons wandering around outside the pub. These particular demons were the scum of the afterlife. They were in the lowest of the low within the social circles of Hell, and their only joy in their miserable afterlives was to wander up to Earth and kill anyone as early as they could; sending the soul of that poor sod into Purgatory, while they fed off of whatever number of years the person had left on the Earth.

Eggsy tried not to feel nervous in case he drew their attention or accidentally alerted Harry--but they found him anyway. The other joy in these demons' afterlives was to find any Guardians and their charges and dispose of both.

They quickly shapeshifted into a gang of degenerates and came into the pub, hoping to pick a fight with Eggsy before they moved on to Harry.

A surge of panic overwhelmed him, and Eggsy urged Harry to leave the pub. If he was quick enough, Harry could make it out of there alive and, God willing, get another Guardian signed to him by the time he made it down the street. What Eggsy did _not_ expect, however, was for Harry to bolt up the doors of the pub after one of the demons insulted Eggsy, and proceed to beat the everloving shit out of all the disguised demons. If Eggsy didn’t know better, he would have said that Harry was an Avenging angel--but he knew that that all came from Harry’s rigorous training and restrained fury.

Once the fight was over, Harry sat back down across from Eggsy, and drained his own pint of Guinness. Eggsy was more than a little bit turned on by the time the glass was drained.

“Sorry about that,” Harry said with a put-upon sigh, not sounding sorry at all. “Had to let off a little steam. I just found out a friend of mine died.”

Eggsy squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. James was a good man, and over the course of his guarding Harry, Eggsy had come to appreciate the bastard. It was a shame James would spend eternity in Purgatory. Eggsy almost said as much to Harry, before realizing how awkward that would sound. “Sorry for your loss,” he said instead and Harry nodded appreciatively at the acknowledgement.

Once they were finished and it was clear that Eggsy wouldn’t grass on him, Harry walked out the door, and Eggsy let him. The band of iron around his heart tightened as he watched him go.

* * *

The fifth time, Harry ends up in a coma because of Professor Arnold.

It’s hard to sit back and know that there isn’t a goddamn thing you can do for your charge while they’re trapped in a coma despite being a guardian angel. It had been too late before Eggsy had realized that something was going to go horribly wrong with the Professor’s interrogation, and by the time he realized it, the Professor’s rank had already exploded onto Harry’s face. By the time Harry left behind his lighter grenade and it had gone off, Eggsy could do nothing but panic over Harry until his Kingsman backup arrived.

Now Eggsy sat in a chair at Harry’s bedside in Kingsman medical, holding his hand because that was all he could do. Eggsy knew, logically, that Harry wasn’t due to die until February, but Harry was a stubborn git who thought that remaining in a coma was a better idea than coming out of it and living a few months more.

“You’re going to live, goddamn it,” Eggsy said fiercely, tears stinging his eyes as he watched Harry’s lax expression. “Even if I have to go down to Purgatory to find your soul and drag you back, kicking and screaming, you are going to _live_. Do you fucking hear me, ’Arry?” He squeezed Harry’s hand tightly until his own knuckles turned white. “You’re going to _live_ , Harry Hart, even if it kills me.”

Harry came out of his coma three months later.

* * *

**February 2015: South Glade Mission Church. Kentucky, USA.**

  
Kentucky is a shithole. It’s sweltering hot, and smells like something crawled up, died, and then shat out its last meal.

Eggsy can’t help but fidget out in the afternoon sun outside of the South Glade Mission Church. It made him twitch thinking about how he wasn’t allowed to go inside. He was a bloody _angel_ for Christ’s sake! He should be allowed to go into any fucking church he wanted! And normally, he _could:_ he was allowed to step into any church that radiated _goodness_ \--but not _this_ church. This ‘church’ held nothing but pure evil, hatred, and misguided faith, and he was _not_ allowed inside. And even if this church was purely good, he still wasn’t allowed inside because this was where Harry was supposed to die and Eggsy was explicitly forbidden to prevent that.

It tore him up as he watched Harry stride purposefully inside that pisspot and know that that would be the last time Harry could swagger on this plane of existence. This was it, Eggsy thought. This was the day of Harry’s death.

As much as he’d like to, he can’t stop any of the so-called “churchgoers” from possibly terminating Harry and it kills him inside knowing that he literally _can’t do anything._ Nothing more powerful than God’s will can stop a Guardian from doing their job, and that’s just what was preventing him from doing anything: God’s will.

“God can go fuck themselves,” Eggsy spat out in contempt. He once believed that his devotion to God was enough, but it wasn’t until he realized he was in love with Harry that he understood that his love for his charge was everything his love for God was not. It was in every breath he took, every decision he made, and in every thought he had. He hadn’t known until the exact moment he realized he was in love with Harry, that he was _literally_ the reason Eggsy was put onto this Earth; why Eggsy was a Guardian in the first place. Harry was Eggsy’s life and watching him die was going to kill him.

As bullets ran out inside the church and the noises of a fight broke out, Eggsy clenched his fists tightly, wondering which one of those goddamned rednecks would be the one to take down Harry Hart. After a long time, there came a silence that made the air around Eggsy stand still.

As Harry emerges staggering from the church, looking like a shaken and horrible version of victorious, Eggsy can’t help but laugh with relief. He should have known that Harry was skilled enough to dodge most of the attacks aimed at him.

Except, of course, for one.

“You know what this is like?” Valentine asked Harry. “It’s like those spy movies we both love. Now, I’m going to tell you my whole plan, and then I’m going to come up with some absurd and convoluted way to kill you, and you’ll find an equally convoluted way to escape.”

Harry smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

Valentine’s pleasant demeanor shuttered closed and left behind an expression as hard as granite. “Well, this ain’t that kind of movie.”

Harry Hart dies from a bullet to the head and Eggsy is there to catch him when he falls.

Harry’s body falls to the ground, leaving his spirit behind in Eggsy’s arms. Eggsy ignores Valentine and his cronies; they’re not his concern any more. Besides he knows deep down in the marrow of his bones that Kingsman won’t rest until they’ve avenged Harry and taken down Valentine, and Eggsy only wishes a little bit that he could be there when someone took out Valentine. After all, tomorrow was his Deadline.

But right now, Eggsy’s entire focus is on his charge. Harry gasps awake in shock, hyperventilating, and confused.

“Up ya get, bruv,” Eggsy says, hefting Harry onto his feet.

“Where am I?” Harry asked, looking all around him. “What’s happened?”

“First, I need you to take a deep breath,” Eggsy said calmly. Harry glared murderously at him. Eggsy rolled his eyes. “Trust me, it’ll help.”

Harry did as he was told and took three steadying breaths.

“Okay,” Eggsy began once he was satisfied. “The thing is, you died.”

Harry blinked at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, “I’m standing right here, how can I--”

Harry glanced down and saw his body on the ground, a pool of his own blood around his head like a halo.

Eggsy tilted his head to look into Harry’s face. “It’s shocking at first, I know, but it’s gonna be okay.”

“Valentine...” Harry began quietly.

“Yeah,” Eggsy confirmed.

Harry blinked again and looked into Eggsy’s eyes. “You gonna be okay?” Eggsy asked.

“I know you,” Harry said incredulously, studying Eggsy’s face intently.

“Yeah we met just recently, remember? We had a few pints at The Black Prince--”

“No before that,” Harry cut him off. He stared hard into Eggsy’s face, making him feel a bit self-conscious from the look Harry was giving him. “You and I...knew each other,” Harry said carefully, as though he was trying to get the facts right in his head.

Eggsy’s eyes widened. “That’s right, we did. But how--”

“Eggsy?” Harry asked to confirm.

Eggsy’s heart stopped. What the fuck was happening?? Harry wasn’t supposed to remember what Eggsy had wiped from his memory--it was an impossibility!

Harry’s eyes widened in realization. “You saved me!” He exclaimed.

“Well, _yeah,”_ Eggsy said, trying to slow his heart rate. “It’s kind of what I _do_. I’m a guardian angel. I...I _was_ your guardian angel.”

Harry stared down at him. “That was you in Prague,” he whispered. Eggsy stared at him. “You pushed me out of the way from the car one of the Morstan women were driving. You were in the safe house, and it was you that shielded me from the bullets.”

Eggsy gave a self-depreciating smile. “I did more than that. But don’t worry I was invisible at the time, so it’s not your fault.”

“But you were more than that just a stranger,” Harry said quietly. Eggsy waited for him to continue. “You were my friend.”

For the first time in their conversation, Eggsy broke eye contact. “Yeah I wos,” he agreed.

“I wanted more than friendship from you,” Harry politely informed him.

Eggsy snorted. “I’m well aware. I’m sure we would have had all sorts of fun in the sack--”

“I loved you.”

Eggsy’s head snapped up. Harry was still staring at him, his chocolate brown eyes filled with warmth and affection. Of course he had, Eggsy thought. How had he not seen it before?

“I’m sorry I had to make you forget,” Eggsy whispered regretfully.

“I seem to have regained my memory now,” Harry replied warmly.

“Still?” Eggsy asked in astonishment. “After everything?”

“You had a good reason to erase my memory, I’m sure,” Harry dismissed. Then he raised an eyebrow at Eggsy expectantly. “Which I look forward to hearing about once we leave for wherever it is we’re meant to go.”

“Well, you were a good man, Harry Hart, with good morals,” Eggsy explained. “So, I hate to break it to you, Haz, but you’re going to Heaven.”

Eggsy began to take a few steps away from the church, and Harry followed him readily.

Harry took his hand, surprising Eggsy, and threaded their fingers together. “As long as you’re beside me,” Harry said, looking back at Eggsy with a smile, “wherever we go will be Heaven.”

**Author's Note:**

> Les Refs:
> 
> *the train car bomb and Morstan--Sherlock: 'The Empty Hearse' and the latest series  
> *"On your left"--Captain America: The Winter Soldier  
> *Natalie--Iron Man 2  
> *Diana--Wonder Woman
> 
> EDIT: Whoops! Missed one: *shapeshifting demons that fed off of years the person had left on the Earth--Doctor Who, the Weeping Angels
> 
> Also apologies to those from Kentucky, as I have never been and have only seen the movie a million and one times.


End file.
